Oh L'amour

It's Valentine's Day, y'all! And for someone as bitter, cynical, sarcastic, and single as I am, I deal with this Hallmark Holiday quite well. I happen to enjoy the sickeningly sweet way everything looks like it was smothered by cotton candy and wrapped in a bow. I like that people receive elaborate floral arrangements after swearing to break up with their significant others for forgetting this holy occasion. I love seeing grown men carry jumbo-sized stuffed animals through the financial district, struggling to remain dignified. I may be singing a different tune when the only date I have tonight is with Dr. Drew and the brand-new episode Celebrity Rehab, but oh well. For now, I'm just delighted to see tacky pink decor everywhere I look.

I'd love to give you all the greatest gift of all this V-Day and announce that Britney has regained sanity and stardom, but alas - Cupid can only do so much. I spent the better part of today "tracking ads" in Rolling Stone and reading the 9-page scathing diatribe on Brit Brit. It's not enough that Perez and Co. have tracked her every gas station pit-stop and underwearless leg-spread - now Rolling Stone has to go and publish an over-the-top expose that goes "Inside an American Tragedy." Tragedy? Really? I wasn't aware the poor girl was dead in a gutter yet. I'm the last person to call out the blogs or the paps or the rags for putting good gossip out into the atmosphere - I'm the worst kind of sucker for it. But it's one thing to read about Paris Hilton's prescription for Valtrex (awesome); it's another to delve into the deepest details about a mentally unstable mother of two with some clear and severe psychological issues. And right about now I'm feeling slightly unstable myself for blogging about Britney yet again. But I'm single and it's Valentine's Day and I'm allowed to indulge in psychotic behavior. Happy V-Day!!!